


Out of Ashes

by von_gikkingen



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brock Rumlow lives, Character Death Fix, Contraxia, Cryofreeze (Marvel), Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hydra (Marvel), IN SPACE!, Magic, Minn-Erva Lives, Past Torture, Recovery, Resurrection, Unethical Experimentation, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-22 09:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30036264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gikkingen/pseuds/von_gikkingen
Summary: It was starting again, then. The sleep was over and there were new tortures to endure. And they sounded so... casual. Conversing with smiles on their faces as they bent over her ruin of a body.Two of them. One too young and... one that was like her. A survivor of flames. Bearing the marks of it for the whole world to see.Looking at his badly healed burns she had to wonder what did her face look like. She knew there was damage, there must have been, after a fire like the one she survived – but in all these years she had no chance to find out how bad it was. How much was still left of her once beautiful face...
Relationships: Brock Rumlow & Original Character(s), Minn-Erva/Brock Rumlow
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ... yes I did give it the title based on that one Deadpool 2 song...  
> I have NOTHING to say for myself...

There was pain.

His flesh screaming under the touch of the flames. Nothing that came before prepared him for this – the heat that was all the way in his bones in manner of seconds. The agony that made it impossible to think.

Pain, being redefined for him as the fire raged across his skin. Pain...

And darkness.

And...

...

“A voice _._ There was _a voice_. A thing that shouldn’t have a voice. It wasn’t a person, wasn't a being. Just... energy. This... sheer _predatory_ energy that had no form.”

“ _Bast_ ,” she tells him. “My people call her Bast.”

He has nothing to say to that as the world settles back into shape around him. There is a brief silent moment as they regard each other. He studies her, this person that was here when he felt himself breathe again, felt himself inhabit his body again. Even though...

“How is this possible?”

“ _She_ made it possible. Don’t ask why. The gods do as they will and give no explanations. They owe us none.”

“Gods,” he repeats, unable to dispute that word. What touched him? The thing that found what little ashes remained of him and recreated the body that existed before there was only ash? It couldn't have been anything other than a deity. Or something stranger still.

“Come. We need to go. You don’t belong in this land.”

He doesn’t argue. Understands what she means, this stranger who knows far too much about things that should be impossible for a human to comprehend. A girl of sixteen, if that – and yet those are ancient eyes in her face. Eyes that have seen too many years pass by...

“Is that why she brought me back, do you think? Because I don’t belong in this land. Don’t get to be buried with the rest of them...?”

She just looks at him, her soft smile an unspoken reminder of what she just said. _Gods don’t owe explanations_. Not to the likes of him. Not to anyone.

She starts walking and he falls in step beside her. Unlike him the girl makes almost no sound as she walks. Quiet as a cat.

Her feet are bare. In a place like this that is an invitation for a snakebite or scorpion sting, yet he doesn’t think any creature that might be hiding in the grassland they’re traversing would dare. She is not to be touched, this... girl. Young at first glance, but that is simply her form. There’s nothing youthful about the way she holds herself. Regal and bent under the weight of life’s miseries all at once.

“Who are you?” he forces himself to ask.

“I have no name I can give you, Brock Rumlow,” says the girl, smiling sadly. “I did once, but no longer. To some the gods give. Others they take from.”

“Why would she take your name?”

“I used to think I have displeased her. But have _you_ done something to make her think you worthy of a great gift?”

He nods, understanding what she means. What he did? The lives that were lost to the flames alongside his...?

He should not have been given this.

He didn’t _deserve_ this, not another breath. And yet here he was. Breathing. Heart beating. Eyes assaulted by the strange beauty of a nighttime veldt, ears picking up on the distant sounds of hyenas laughing in the dark. “But you can’t move through life nameless,” says his strange companion. “If you don’t offer a name people will choose one for you. There were many place where the name they chose was _witch_. But when I find people who are unafraid even as they sense I’m more than what I appear to be... They call me _bibi_. You may too.”

Something about the way she says it makes him understand it is not really a name, only something that will do in place of one. A word in some language he doesn’t speak.

He resists asking for a translation. Something to call her was all he needed and now he has that. That and dozens of unspoken questions about who she is, how she knew where to find him, how does she know which way to go to reach the nearest border...

He doesn't ask any of them. Not yet. There will be time but... tonight he was content with not knowing. Content with the silence they shared as they walked. In hurry to leave as they were, neither of them welcome here.

Wakanda was nothing more than a place for them to leave behind and never look back. And as for what lay ahead...

All Rumlow knew was that he couldn’t begin to imagine.


	2. Chapter 2

There was fire. Flames of a shooting star burning its way through the atmosphere. It left agony in its wake even as it went out. 

...

There were voices.

Hands touching her, blades cutting into her flesh.

There were torturers that made her wish she died in the cage of smouldering metal her ship has tuned into. Pain left hatred in its wake even as died down. Hatred for the people of this insignificant hellhole of a planet. C-53.

The world she was going to die on.

...

Were they going to let her die...? Were these monsters _ever_ going to be done with her?

...

There was ice. And sleep. And no dreams at all.

It was not the death she wished for for so long. The death _they_ made her wish for. Still she closed her eyes and pretended there need be no waking. That this icy moment was all there was, all there was ever going to be.

Minn’Erva slept.

...

She slept and the years passed by. Painless years. _She never wanted them to end..._

...

“I don’t know. Presumable. There was no name in the file. Me, I always just thought of her as...”

“The ice queen?”

“The sleeping beauty, actually.”

Voices.

It was starting again, then. The sleep was over and there were new tortures to endure. And they sounded so... casual. Conversing with smiles on their faces as they bent over her ruin of a body.

Two of them. One too young and... one that was like her. A survivor of flames. Bearing the marks of it for the whole world to see.

Looking at his badly healed burns she had to wonder what did her face look like. She knew there was damage, there must have been, after a fire like the one she survived – but in all these years she had no chance to find out how bad it was. How much was still left of her once beautiful face...

“She is in no pain. But she does believe it’s coming. There is _always_ pain,” says the girl. So young. How did someone so young become involved with the monsters that held her all these years...?

“Think this would be the time to tell her we’re not with Hydra?”

She flinches. The reaction is involuntary and violent. Just hearing that word. _Their_ word. She shudders, with cold and the onslaught of tormenting memories, both. “You were right. This is what we need to do,” says the dark-skinned girl to her companion. “A terrible thing has been done here. There is no undoing it. But we must be able to do _something_.”

The last words seem to be meant for her, Minn realizes. A promise, almost. One of... kindness.

Was that possible? Were the monsters that inhabited this world capable of kindness? She didn’t think she could believe that.

“Let’s get some clothes on her and get her the hell out of here,” says the man and they trade a brief glance. These two strangers that brought an end to her icy sleep.

And she should ask. She must ask... “Who... are you...?”

“That’s a really long story, blue.”

...

“And then I died.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be. It was... a suicide, technically,” says the man. Rumlow. In a tone far too casual for this conversation. “But as you can see didn’t really take.”

“Is this your terran sense of humour?” she frowns.

“Just the facts, blue. I wish they were less weird but... This is the story. Just... how it went.”

“And how _did_ it go,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him, daring him to say another improbable thing.

“There was a goddess. She didn’t want my remains buried in the soil of her land. Don’t ask me how she did it. All I know is, suddenly it was a night on the veldt and I wasn’t alone and... I haven’t been alone since, come to think of it,” he says, glancing at his young companion. “Do you think we might be a touch codependent...?”

“I enjoy the company,” shrugs the girl. “Besides – I dread to think what you'd do if left without adult oversight, even for a moment.”

It must be some kind of private joke between them. One Minn can’t begin to untangle. She waits. There is more coming. He told her nothing about what made him want to free her from her icy captivity, after all.

And there must be a reason. She cannot believe she was free simply because what has been done to her in the years since her ship crashed in the desert offended them. They disapproved, she could tell as much. Pitied her.

But they still _wanted something_.

She knew they did. _Nothing_ was ever free – and what she was given here was too great not to come with a price. Any moment now one of them was going to ask...

“You are not wrong.”

She has done it before, yet it startles Minn all over again. The way this skinny little girl seems to be able to tell what she’s thinking. Offering answers to questions she didn’t ask yet.

There was something unnatural about her, something that made her feel much more at ease with the man – even as he admitted that he once belonged to the organization that kept her prisoner.

“Tell me. What is it you want from me? Is it my blood?”

The terrans were forever draining her of blood. Cutting out the circuits the Starforce augmented her with to create the perfect soldier. Whatever there was to take terrans _never_ hesitated to take it.

These two might not have seemed cruel. Might have been the most pleasant members of their species she encountered so far. But that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t do the same. That they wouldn’t _take_. Thinking it their right. Thinking her nothing but resource – not a person at all.

“You’ve endured so much on this world,” says the girl then. And there is something in her voice, in her soulful eyes, that makes Minn certain the compassion was not only real but born of knowledge. That this strange girl knew _everything_. All the things she knew she would never speak of, not to anyone. Still this girl knew. She knew and she wished to do something, anything, to help those wounds heal. “You wish to leave,” she continues, her voice kind and so very gentle. “You don’t wish to spend another moment on this planet, breathing its air, feeling the touch of its sun on your skin. You want to put all of this behind you.”

Minn nods, not trusting herself to speak.

A look passes between her two saviours then. And the next words come from the man.

“We want along for the ride.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Nothing against Earth. Great place to visit.”

That earns him a look from the underage looking witch that’s been the main point of stability in this second life he was granted. A look he probably deserves because this is really is no time for jokes.

The alien doesn’t seem to be in the place to appreciate them. Not now. Not anytime soon.

He sighs and tries again. “You might not be able to tell just by looking, but... We both happen to have the kind of past we don’t want catching up with us. It will take just one person recognizing me and I’ll be headed straight for the Raft. And B isn’t that much better, even if they don’t build prisons for her kind. Anyway... we talked about it and it’s going to make our lives a whole lot easier not to have to live them _here_ ,” he says. The blue-skinned creature listens carefully, hanging on his every word. Waiting for the catch, no doubt. Because if ever there was someone who had no reason to trust his kind...

“I have seen what lies beyond this planet. All the many worlds, all the species inhabiting them. I know of places where we wouldn’t look out of the ordinary,” adds Bibi, wisely skipping the part about how she had her eyes on the stars for decades. Blue girl was dealing with enough weirdness as it was. No need to confuse her yet more with the fact that this strange kid who looked young enough to be his daughter was in fact older than Redskull...

“But you still think you need _me_?” guesses the alien. “What is it that scares you?”

“Mobs,” Rumlow says simply. “That’s usually the reaction a witch gets. Even if she never uses her powers to harm anyone. They’ll still come at her with torches and pitchforks. At least that’s how things are done down here. Up there?” he says, gesturing, “They’ll most likely show up wielding blasters.”

“What?” frowns the blue woman.

“Scifi weapons,” he offers, which, again, only confuses her. “Crap we just won’t have any defences to. So, yes, we _could_ use a native guide. Someone who knows what not to do if we don’t want half the galaxy after us, going all _you shall not suffer a witch to live_.”

She thinks about it for a moment.

A _long_ moment.

She doesn’t trust them, that much is painfully obvious. And the sight of the scars on her bare arms is a constant reminder of why she feels that way. Of why she has every right to.

It’s been a while since he felt much of anything about the things that once meant everything to him. Before he was touched by the goddess. Remade. In body and, he suspected, in mind. Because he had a memory of what it was like to be loyal to something but... no, it’s nothing more than that. A memory.

Just something left over from a dead man.

“You have been gone for a many years. The galaxy has changed in that time. It might not be as easy to navigate as you remember,” B says in that soft, caring tone of hers. “It might be a little easier with allies. If you’ll have us.”

The alien laughs then, or tries to. It is _not_ a happy sound. “Do I have any other options?”

“You do, actually. We can always just steal two ships while we’re at it. You can take one and never have to see us again,” he tells her. Words it’s immediately obvious she disbelieves. They sound too much like he’s trying to sell her an illusion of choice when it’s unthinkable for her to make any but the obvious one.

Well, at least she doesn’t go as far as saying any of it to his face. Instead she wants to know what he means by _ships_.

“Ah, yes... That would be phase two.”

She just looks at him blankly.

“SWORD has a few spares around their place. They probably won’t even miss them,” he says. Not really helping her understand but that was going to be a constant struggle anyway. “The point is, there are spaceworthy vessels to be had. Probably not the kind of thing you’re used to but enough to get us off this rock. That’s good news, right?”

“Right,” says the blue creature as she realizes he waits for her confirmation.

“You think you might want to tell that to your face?”

“She has every reason to look worried,” Bibi tells him, chastisingly. “She barely knows us.”

“That’s not going to be the case for long,” he says with a shrug. “Since Hydra never not builds their secret evil science bases anywhere reasonable we have _quite_ the roadtrip ahead of us.”

...

Adjusting to having a witch as a part of his life has been easy, but then _she_ made it easy. She was a pleasant, kind-hearted person who went right along with every joke he ever made about the discrepancy between her real age and the way she looked. A girl not even out of her teens everyone always assumed must be his daughter – who meanwhile regarded him with strained patience of long-suffering grandmother.

And yet, against all odds, they got along. Genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

But now he was faced with another person he’ll have to figure out how to fit into his life and he was already certain things will _not_ be that easy with her. No, Minn’Erva was far too battered for him to know what to say to her.

He knew to give her plenty of distance, to never make her feel like her personal space was about to be breached – but that was where his ideas on how to treat a survivor of years torturous experiments ran out. Even if she wasn’t a literal alien this would have been a minefield. And she was, of course. Her inhumanity impossible to forget, even for a second. The rich, blue hue of her skin made sure of that. And then there were the burns and the many surgical scars that made her history just as impossible to forget. He was never not aware of just how fragile she was. Just how impressive it was that she was anything besides catatonic after all the things Hydra did to her...

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he lies.

“You were looking at me,” says Minn’Erva, not letting it go.

“Just... wondering how are you still sane.”

“Am I? Still sane? Is it a sane thing to do to form an alliance with two strangers on nothing but a promise of being able to return home...?” she says, her tone thoughtful more than anything else. For a moment she glances at the sleeping girl stretched over the back seats – before returning her attention to him. “I find neither of you trustworthy. You worked with those monsters. Believed what they believed.”

“So I don’t get points for freeing you. I happen to agree, you know,” he says, wondering if that’ll make her angrier. “I am... _not_ a good person. She is. But I can just about manage not to be too horrible, even on my best days.”

“And you’re the only people on the face of this world that care what happens to me,” says the alien, her words devoid of emotion.

“Oh go ahead. Say it. It’ll make you feel better,” he tells her.

“And you _don’t_ really give a damn. You need me, that’s all. Your _native guide_.”

The words are as bitter as he expected them to be. But at least that’s an emotion. An appropriate one at that.

“And you don’t care right back at us,” Rumlow replies. Finding he’s smiling, “Enjoy that. Won’t last.”

“Because I owe you...?” she says, still bitter.

“Because... what? No. Nothing to do with that. It’s just how these things work. We’re stuck with each other now – and will be for who knows how long. You can try but there’s no way you’ll end up feeling _nothing_ about us.”

She just looks at him. The expression of someone who will not dignify that with an answer on her face. Her lips set in a rigid line as she stares back at him.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you...”


	4. Chapter 4

This was troubling.

She vaguely remembers nodding off, curled up in the backseat of the vehicle. And there was no blanket over her when she did.

There was one covering her now.

It was... curious. The way they never tired of playing mindgames with her. The girl forever trying to be her friend, the man ignoring this burned wreck of the supersoldier once was and treating her as though she might be able to contribute to enacting their next brilliant plan.

She didn’t like what either of them were doing. But what she disliked most of all was that it was starting to work. Despite her best efforts she was forever forgetting herself. Playing along with this charade of theirs, letting them drag her into their conversations. She even caught herself smiling on overhearing them bickering in a particularly amusing way the other day. They truly were getting under her skin and she needed to put an end to it.

If only they provided her with some sort of excuse to treat them as the enemy. But if these two were anything other than what they seemed they were hiding it incredibly well. Not even Rumlow with his history with the people who turned her into this weakened shell of her former self was all that easy to hate. Possibly because he was yet to do a single thing wrong. Somehow he always knew what it took to make things easier for her and not once did he act as though he deserved any kind of gratitude for it.

 _And_ he put a blanket over her when he noticed she fell asleep. Because of course he did.

For years hatred of their entire species was what she had to keep her at least somewhat sane while she was treated as a science experiment. And now she had these two _unhateable_ terrans to content with. To make her realize she’s dealing with a species of unique individuals and generalizing like that just... didn’t work.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” utters Rumlow when he realizes she’s been watching him from where she lied, slumped in the back seat. “B’s out, casting a spell or something and I was starting to get really bored.”

She sighs, sitting up, leaning forward and into the space between the front seats before she can think better of it. “Are you any less bored now that I’m awake?”

“Not as such. But now I can finally do this,” he says, tapping one of the buttons on the control panel of their vehicle. And as soon as he does noise floods the small, enclosed space. Not particularly loud but... strange. So very strange to her ears.

She was yet to understand what it was that appealed in these terran melodies. He did seem to like it well enough, though, softly nodding his head in time with the music. “You didn’t seem to have any bad dreams this time,” he says in a conversational tone. “That’s probably a good sign.”

“And how do you know what I do and don’t dream about?” she wanders, regarding him icily.

He considers answering the question as it was asked, or so it seems. But at the last moment he sighs and the words he does end up saying are, “Do you ever dream of home?”

“Hala?” Minn says. Even saying the word hurts. “No. I don’t want to see it in my dreams. I want to see it with my eyes wide open.”

“You will,” he says.

But it’s not just the words. There’s a motion of his hand. Not too fast – he takes care never to do that, never to startle her by moving too suddenly – but one that is clearly meant as an attempt to reach out to her. He stops himself in the last instant. His hand never touches hers. A look of uncertainty settles across his features and it takes a moment before he dares to meet her eyes. “Sorry. I’m not going to... It’s just what you do to comfort someone. Most of don’t even think about it, just do it automatically.”

“Why would you assume I need comforting?” she says, forcing the words to sound unemotional only with effort.

“Blue...” he sighs. “Everything about you screams you could use a hug.”

“I could use never being touched by another terran again.”

He nods, not surprised either by the words or the vehemence of them. “That’s fair,” he says. “Won’t be long now and you’ll leave this planet behind. Nothing but last two terrans to worry about. And we’re real experts at staying out of your space.”

She says nothing. Not even the thing she probably should say. That she doesn’t know if she can bear being touched even by a Kree. That maybe there is no one, not a single being of any species, she can tolerate to be near her after how little control she had over what has been done to her body for all these years...

But it’s not a thought she sees herself sharing. Not with anyone, least of all this stranger.

...

“We have all we need. I know where the ships are, I have all the memories of flying one I’m liable to get. We can get on with phase two tonight,” says the little witch when she returns to their vehicle some hours later.

“Just like that? We’ll just walk in, pick whichever ship we like the look of and leave on it...?” says Minn, just a touch sarcastically.

“Just like that,” agrees Bibi. “They might have their security systems but none of those were built to survive a magical attack. We can just walk right in.”

“You mean _you_ can just walk right in,” comments Rumlow. “And _we_ can just about follow in your wake.”

“Is this really when you want to be having that conversation, boy?” she says, giving him a look that is just a little amused.

“What conversation?” frowns Minn, looking from one to the other.

“The one about who’s the sidekick here,” smirks the girl. And with her eyes that full of mischief she looks even younger than she normally does.

“So immature. And at _your_ age,” says the other terran, shaking his head at her.

She giggles as a young girl too. This unaging, long-lived creature that seems to believe she can learn to fly an interstellar vessel within the span of a few hours, by stealing the knowledge from someone’s head.

And the worst part? She’s _not_ wrong. As Minn is forced to admit mere hours later. Aboard a ship rising ever higher through Earth’s atmosphere...


	5. Chapter 5

“Why this one?”

“We need a place that draws the most varied crowds from every corner of the galaxy. Contraxia is perfect,” she explains.

“Because...?” he says, stretching the syllables to remind her she’s speaking to someone who’s never been to space before.

She starts to explain what the main industry on this _Contraxia_ place is. “Say no more,” he interrupts her a few sentences in. “That is a reasonable enough thing to want to get on, especially after being locked up for as long as you were.”

“We’re not going there because of... _that_ ,” she rolls her eyes. “True, you can’t move for all the lovebots the place is crawling with. But it also has plenty of establishments specializing in keeping the... merchandize looking appealing. _I want my scars fixed_ ,” she says, frustrated at the fact he was so slow to catch up she had to spell it out for him.

“Oh,” he says, trying to stifle his surprise before she notices. Failing hard, clearly.

“Oh?” she repeats. “And what exactly do you mean by _oh_...?”

“I just didn’t realize it bothers you that much.”

She sighs, getting that look again. The one she was wearing on and off for as long as he knew her. Her part-frustrated, part-resigned _will I ever understand these terrans_ expression...

“I supposed you don’t mind finding a face you don’t recognize as your own in the mirror,” she says, with just a hint of anger.

“This _is_ my face. The face I earned. Even if it could be fixed I wouldn’t let that happen. I earned these,” he says with a gesture encompassing his far from appealing face. “I made the decisions, I deserve the consequences,” he finishes, matter-of-factly. Seeing he once again said something she did _not_ expect.

The silence lasts. Long enough to almost make him believe this conversation was over. And then she speaks – her voice so soft he finds himself leaning towards her to make sure he catches the words.

“I miss _my_ face,” she whispers. “I miss the person I used to be. And I know I’m never getting her back. But at least I can look like her. At least I can have that again.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that and so he just turns his attention back to the starmap. The _mysterious starmap_ , that was. Because how the hell did SWORD have this much concrete information about the alien worlds halfway across the galaxy from Earth was a question he was sure had a very interesting answer. Too bad that answer could only be had on a world they left behind.

World they would _not_ be returning to.

“How far is it anyway?” he asks just to change the subject. “This orgy planet we’re headed for.”

“It’s not an... please never use that phrase again,” says the Kree, making a face. “Whatever you’re picturing it’s not as bad as all that.”

“You’re the one who used the word... _lovebots_ , was it...?” he says, just about managing to supress a grin. “Wherever we’re headed they’re clearly capable of some advanced robotics. And that’s what they use it for. But I’m going too far by using the phrase _orgy plan..._ ”

“Don’t...” warns Minn’Erva.

“Fine. For you,” he makes clear. “But the second I see any kind of evidence it's an appropriate name that’s all I’m gonna be calling the place.”

...

“How many more of these things?”

“Fifteen more jumps,” replies the Kree, for a moment seeming almost amused. “We would have been there already if it wasn’t for that delicate terran constitution of yours.”

He lets her have that one, offering no comeback. There are only the two seats in the front of the ship and one is of course occupied by the pilot. The ancient woman who looks very much like a delighted little girl. After decades of looking up at the sky, dreaming of an escape, someplace far enough for the goddess not to be able to reach her, she was finally here. And the beauty of cosmos was apparently no less overwhelming for the fact she had seen it many times before.

“You really do look like a parent and a child,” he hears Minn’Erva say. Commenting on the way he watches the girl.

“I’ll... try to see some kind of compliment in that,” he says, turning to the blue-skinned woman for a moment. “Though... the fact we’re headed for the kind of place we’re headed for would imply I'm just _terrible_ at parenting.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” chuckles B, even as her eyes never leave the starscape in front of her.

“Why did I ever agree to go to space with you, you little bully?”

“Why did _I_ agree to go to space with _you_ , you Phantom of the Opera lookalike,” she replies, not missing a beat.

“You know _why_ ,” Rumlow smirks. “Search your feelings. You know it to be true.”

Minn’Erva is of course utterly confused as to what the hell his last few words were supposed to mean. Not that she seems to mind. She is just as taken with the sights in front of them as Bibi is. Remembering better times, perhaps. Or maybe, just maybe, she’s finally allowing herself to hope.

Whatever it is, this emotion that is softening her features, it transforms her. She haven’t lost a single scar, a single burn – her skin is still a horrifying testament to everything she had to live through. And yet, somehow, in this moment she is beautiful. The blue of her skin lit only by dim starlight looks to him warm rather than icy for once. Maybe that means that he’s catching a glance of the person she used to be. The Minn’Erva that was before Earth happened to her. He can’t really tell. She’s still too much a stranger. Might never be anything else.

But stranger or not she _is_ beautiful.

Whatever she’s going to be once the plastic surgeons of Contraxia are done with her, in this moment she is nothing less than the most beautiful creature in the whole galaxy.


	6. Chapter 6

“How did you convince her to do this for free?” she asks, unable to help herself. Because the surgeon who she just set an appointment with for later this evening? When she first met the woman – the wizened crone with the bright pink skin of a Krylorian – she was certain there will be a price and it will be hard to meet, considering how little of her skin was still left unblemished. Yet somehow, during the course of the conversation, all the jadedness and greed seem to fall off as the woman agreed to treat her as a charity case.

“I don’t need to know what fire you were in to know that for you it’s still burning,” were the words the surgeon used. “If making you look like yourself again is going to help put it out, well... It isn’t costing me that much more than my time. And the odd good deed is good for the soul.”

Somehow it almost seemed like the woman came to believe that it was Minn that was doing _her_ a favour by allowing her to do this. To do something worthwhile for once, after all that was required by her last thousand patients were fuller lips or more perfectly rounded breasts.

“Do you really wish to know?”

She looks at the girl. Who for the last half hour did nothing more dramatic than sat in an uncomfortable chair in a corner of the room. Unspeaking. Never doing anything that would suggest she was extending her powers to affect what was going on.

But she did. She must have. There was simply no other explanation.

“I can’t give you a perfect understanding of my powers. These things, they are hard to put into words. But if you wish me to I _will_ try.”

Minn takes her time to decide as they walk side by side on the white streets of Contraxia. A world made for vices – and yet it seems so brightly clean under the layer of freshly fallen snow.

A snowflake falls on her cheek but she can barely feel the sensation. Her damaged skin offers only a shadow of a sensory input the crystals of snow should have made her feel – reminding her it’s not merely vanity that made her seek out one of this world’s many specialists.

“Yes,” she decides in the end. “Tell me. How did you convince her to do this for me.”

“You are not wrong in your opinion on that woman. She is exactly as she seemed when you first walked in. Made too old by too many years spent on this world where everything is superficial, intended to be little more than a pretty shell to show to the world. But once, many years ago, before fate backed her into this corner where greed is all that keeps her going through the motions...? Once, that woman was a healer. She learned her trade in order to be able to help people.”

Minn nods to let her young companion know she hears her. Even if her claims are rather hard to accept.

“I simply brought the last remnants of that long ago healer closer to the surface. That’s why she agreed to help you. Because helping people is the only good reason to do what she does.”

“So you manipulate people’s emotions?” she frowns, not sure she likes that explanation.

“No, I don’t believe it’s that simple. What people are is so much more than the emotions they feel. When I’m near a person it feels as though I’m in a sea. Each is different. Has different currents, different temperature, different shores closing them in. It is not a perfect metaphor,” she adds apologetically.

“You can change the sea,” Minn guesses.

“No,” Bibi actually laughs at the idea. “You can’t do a whole lot about that much water. It’s too enormous a thing. It’s only the way I move through the waves, the ripples I leave in my wake. That is all I’m ever able to do. Sometimes the person doesn’t respond at all. This day I got lucky. If we chose someone greedier, someone whose waters were long since poisoned by cynicism or too cold for them ever to feel compassion... I got lucky,” she repeats with a shrug.

“ _I_ got lucky. That you could make her feel sorry for me.”

“Do you despise being pitied? Victims deserve pity, Minn’Erva. And you _are_ a victim. Don’t hold it against the rest of us when it breaks our hearts.”

She looks at the girl for a long time, taking in the sight of her – the darkly beautiful eyes, the snowflakes caught, unmelting, in the wild tangle of her hair. She looks at her trying to figure out why anger seems such an impossibility in face of so much kindness. It should be the easiest thing to hate this terran for reminding her of her own fragility with every worried glance, every soft-spoken word. And yet, somehow, this ageless child makes anger an impossibility.

“As long as it gets me fixed,” she sighs in the end. “That’s all that matters.”

“It is not. You will be made whole only on the outside.”

“I’ll take that,” shrugs Minn rather than admit the girl is right. On the inside... no, she didn’t think there ever will be soothing _those_ troubled waters.

“I will try to make it easier,” says the witch then. “I know how much you want this but it might not be enough for you to be able to bear the touch of a stranger. Even a well-meaning one. It will not be easy for you to go under the scalpel.”

“No,” she admits. “It won’t be _easy_. But that doesn’t mean I will need you to... put a spell on me.”

She’s not sure she uses the phrase right. She did hear Rumlow use it often enough, never in a particularly serious tone. It seemed to amuse him how little he truly understood the powers his friend wielded. Minn herself didn’t know what she felt. About the powers, about the prospect of having them used on her...

Then again she... “You truly believe you can take this. This... invasion upon your body...” says the girl, just a touch amazed as the imaginary waters she threads make her understand this. “You think you can bear it because this time it’s you choosing to bear your skin to the blade. And that makes all the difference.”

“It does.”

A moment passes. The snowfall grows heavier as they start moving again, headed for the spaceport and the ship that is the closest thing to home they both have.

“I believe you. I will still be there tonight,” says the little witch. And it’s a promise.

One that reassures her, even if she won’t be admitting it out loud. Not that she needs to. The stormy waters of her soul will tell it all.


	7. Chapter 7

“And you’re sure you’re not gonna miss it? The way the bots just zero in on you every damn time...?” he asks. Changing the subject to keep himself from addressing that one thing it’s probably really bad idea to talk about. The fact that Minn’Erva, now restored to the person she has been before her ship went down in the desert, is a breathtaking sight.

Also a survivor of terrible abuse. And that shouldn't be something he needded to consciously remind himself of...

Well, perhaps he actually managed to keep his pokerface because she doesn’t seem uncomfortable under his stare. What she does seem is confused about what the hell he’s talking about.

“Wait – you _don’t_ get the hard sell? Is that really just me...?” he frowns.

“Oh,” she says, catching up to what he’s talking about. “I think that's just something they're programmed for. To seek out people who are... ehm...”

“Stuck with having to pay for it,” he finishes for her, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “Relax, blue. I actually happen to encounter a mirror now and then. I know what this looks like. The bots have a point.”

She clearly wants to suggest he just does what she did and go see one of the many, many surgeons on this planet. But just before she can get the words out she remembers what reply he gave the last few times she broached the subject.

“How did you do that? Make your peace with it?” she asks instead, with genuine, almost a touch desperate curiosity. “It was all I could think about. It didn’t feel like my skin anymore, under all those scars. And yet you... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand...”

“It was all you could think of because you didn’t deserve your scars. These are mine. I _earned_ them. It wouldn’t be getting rid of someone else’s handiwork, it would be... hiding what I really am,” he shrugs. “We’re very different stories, Minn’Erva. Different stories with different villains.”

She doesn’t answer. Even as she nods to indicate she understands, or thinks she does. “Are the lovebots really so persistent?” she says then, smiling just a little.

“Tell you what – next time I go for a run you can come with me. See for yourself. It’s quite the spectacle. One of the business owners stopped me to apologize and assure me she’s working on a fix. Something about how she can tell I’m not interested in her merchandize and doesn’t wish to needlessly inconvenience me.”

“Are you really? Uninterested?” That seems to genuinely confuse her. “Those machines are very good at providing... services...”

“I’ll just take your word for it,” he says, enjoying the eyeroll the words provoke very much. “I might just be a luddite or something but... There are things that shouldn’t be outsourced to machines.”

“You... do know you can get the real thing too, right? Someone organic?”

“Oh, blue,” he laughs. “That’s adorable. Do you not know how _broke_ we are? Not an expense we can afford. Especially since I’d have to pay extra just for the emotional damages associated with looking at _this_ for any length of time.”

She shakes her head but he can tell that in a way she admires it. The way he can laugh about this.

“Tell you what – we figure out how do our combined skillsets add up to any way of making money and I’ll give the robots a try. Since they come so highly recommended,” he adds, just to get the Kree flash him a less than amused look. “In fact we should all treat ourselves. That _is_ what this planet is all about. And here we are, not contributing to the local economy.”

If she didn’t have all her personal space issues this would be when she’d hit him in the shoulder, he’s certain of it. And of course he’d deserve that. Just a weird subject through and through and instead of moving away from of it here he was, keeping it going.

Because it made her smile.

Not in some hugely amused way but... there was just a hint of it around the corners of her mouth. Improbable and yet it was happening. A miracle almost as improbable as the transformation she undergone in just a single evening – from a scarred, mottle-skinned survivor of things he probably couldn’t even imagine into someone who would in no way stand out on her homeworld now.

She had her _Kree good looks_ back. Her words. And the truth was that, even though the transformation was merely physical, she did seem... more _herself_ , somehow. More sure of herself, in any case. There has been a major change in her body language. And in response to it he suddenly found himself putting conscious effort in keeping certain distance between them, even though it has been an automatic thing he never had to think about before. The battered creature they released form Hydra’s cryo unit was not someone he could imagine _not_ keeping at a distance. But the woman he was looking at now? Very different story.

But that was his problem and he was _not_ making it hers.

“Well... you’ll have plenty of time to figure out if there’s anything around here you might want to buy. I think we will be staying on Contraxia for a while.”

Now _that_ is the last thing he ever expected her to say and so all he can do is stare at her. “What about Hala?”

She just shakes her head. An expression he can’t begin to read hardening her features. “I feel at home in my body again. That’s enough for now. Everything else can wait.”

He’d ask for confirmation but... No, she seems plenty sure about that decision. Questioning it doesn’t seem like the thing to do here. Besides – if she doesn’t know how homesick she feels for the Kree homeworld, who does...?

“I suppose this is as good a place as any to figure things out.”

“I like it here,” she offers unexpectedly. “I never really... I noticed all the wrong things about this world. You just think of it as a place that... serves a purpose.” She seems lost in thoughts, the kind she won’t be sharing. And yet, as seconds pass, she turns her attention to him again to add a soft, “Must be the snow. The way it makes everything seem so... clean.”

“I’ve stayed places for stupider reasons,” he comments.

And there it is again. The smile – or a promise of one, at least. And for a moment she is as beautiful as she is broken...


	8. Chapter 8

“Can you see the future?” she frowns, not sure which answer it is she’s hoping for. “How can you be this certain?”

“I cannot. Yet in a way... time is a kind of a sea to me too. If I will it. If I dare to swim in those waters.”

It’s nearly impossible to hold her side of _that_ particular conversation. Minn doesn’t try. Instead she waits. There is yet more to be said on the subject and Bibi will not keep anything from them. She never does. Treating them as children that were placed under her protection – which would be an infuriating attitude coming from anyone else. But there was something far too genuine behind the witch’s actions. Getting mad at her was simply unthinkable...

“How long would we be stranded?”

“Four months. A few days over four months,” she corrects, her expression growing distant and it’s clear whatever it is she’s seeing it is not the here and now. “If we sell this ship to just the right buyer, one more interested in owning something from some peculiar little planet whose species has only limited starfaring capabilities we’ll have enough to buy another and plenty left over. Now the ship we’ll be buying is... not currently...”

“Ah,” says Minn, catching up. “It’s not spaceworthy, is it?”

“Not as such. It _can_ be repaired. I know exactly how to do it, though it will take some time to get hold of all the parts I'll need.”

“Right. About four months.”

“During which we’ll be stranded on the orgy planet,” adds Rumlow. Grinning when she turns to glare at him. “What? There _are_ orgies going on all over the place. That makes it the appropriate name for it.”

“It already has a name. Why can’t you just use _that_...?” she shakes her head at him.

“Because he enjoys your reaction,” say Bibi before he has the chance to reply. “That’s another point I meant to bring up. The reason I know this will leave us better off than we are now. We can manage to get along for four months. No disaster threatens from that direction. And then, once the ship is repaired, we can settle on whatever direction we might head next.”

Her eyes linger on Minn’Erva for just a moment too long. Threading the waters, the way she always does. Searching for a sign as to whether she’ll insist they take her home as they promised they will on the day they got her out of that icy coffin.

The truth is Minn is almost glad to have all that time to ponder the question. Because she is no longer certain Hala is the right destination for her.

In a very sad way she feels more certainty in her current circumstances than in any possible future she might have on the world she was born on.

“So that’s decided then?” says Rumlow, glancing around. “We’re getting rid of this thing? Trading it in for something...”

“Worse,” offers the little witch. “We’ll be replacing it with something that, at first glance, seems a lot worse.”

...

“You said _a lot worse_. You didn’t say _actual garbage_ ,” groans the terran as he takes in their new home. “Normally I trust your judgement but... how exactly are we supposed to fix up this thing? We can’t remove the rust if it’s the only thing that is keeping it together.”

Minn just stops short of agreeing with him on every point. Then again why waste her breath? Especially since she has a few points of her own to make. “Never mind that we’ll freeze in this thing. We won’t last a week, let alone four months.”

“Children, children...” says the witch, making them roll their eyes in unison. “Have I ever failed you?”

“ _Yes_. Right now. How are you not getting that from literally everything we just said.”

“You’ve known her for longer. How did you not pick up on this death wish she clearly has?” mutters Minn. Only half joking.

But isn’t going with the joke the only option she has here? Inside this rickety excuse for a ship. That was being sold as accommodations rather than means of leaving the planet, because the previous owner thought of it as something that could only ever serve as temporary quarters for those who couldn’t afford better. He was in fact amazed when it transpired they don’t mean to simply rent the rusty wreck to crash in for a few weeks, but buy it outright.

And yet Bibi claimed she would have it up among the stars in matter of months. And Minn had to wonder just how likely it was for it to take actual magic to make _that_ happen.

“Well,” sighs Rumlow. “You made our bed. We’ll lie in it. That’s where they’ll find us next morning. Dead of hypothermia...”

...

“This was a lot funnier before the sun has set.”

“She said she’ll have the heating systems running in the next twenty minutes,” replies Rumlow half-heartedly.

His teeth are chattering.

She doesn’t answer, merely gives up the last vain hope of getting any warmer by huddling in her own corner. “So I know you think something bad will happen if you as much as think of touching me. There’s probably a lot of reasons why you believe that,” she says, picking herself up and taking the few steps it takes to cross to his uncomfortable, freezing corner of one of the more inhabitable rooms aboard this sad excuse for a ship. “And I can’t make you believe I’m not _that_ fragile. But you have to believe me when I tell you – I am _that cold_.”

He doesn’t look particularly comfortable with what she’s suggesting but still he doesn’t shrink back when she sits down next to him. Long second of uncertainty and he wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling the blanket he was using to keep the cold at bay around them both.

“Thank you,” she says, surprised that her breath isn’t visible in the frigid air.

“Really not as much of an inconvenience as you think it is,” he utters casually enough.

She wishes she could leave that without a reply but... No. No, she can’t. “Why are you so tense then?”

“Because you aren’t.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You being this at ease right now, considering all your... considering everything. It just... doesn't make sense.”

She doesn’t argue. If anything she agrees with him. It _is_ strange. And yet she does feel at ease in a way that can’t be explained away with how much more comfortable she is now than she was a minute ago. How much warmer...

“Stop overthinking it. It’s probably just my survival instinct kicking in,” she murmurs. “Overwriting everything else.”

“I mean... it’s a theory...”

“Just stop talking. Before you make this weird.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Oh I agree. You made some assumptions about how her recovery is going and then you just worked with those rather than pay attention to her actual behaviour.”

“Meanwhile you knew all along she’s doing great, actually,” he says, unamused.

“Witch, remember,” says the supernatural being in question, extending a hand to him.

He hands her the scifi looking tool she’s clearly after before adding a half-hearted, “Still have very little idea what that actually means, _remember_? And don’t get going about seas. It’s a pretty metaphor. It doesn’t explain things nearly as well as you think it does. And that’s not what we’re talking about, is it?”

“What _are_ we talking about, boy?” she smirks. “What exactly is so upsetting about the fact she isn’t going to go to pieces when one of us accidentally touches her? That’s a good thing. For us. For _her_. Yet here you are, getting upset.”

“I’m not... upset...” he replies. At a loss to find a word for what _is_ he.

“It’s never easy to give up on your preconceptions and have to deal with the universe as it is, not as you would like it to be. Oh, child,” says B, now going into full wise old grandmother mode, which is never not weird, “it’s _a good thing_ when things don’t go the way you thought they would. You’d never expect this ship to fly again. No one who laid eyes on it would. And we will take it to the stars all the same. Because some stories just don’t have the obvious endings. They follow a stranger path. Lead you to a place you never expected to find yourself.”

“Well, I never expected to find myself agreeing with you on the whole _I can fix this pile of junk_ thing. And what do you know – still don’t,” he says just to see the smile that actually matches her too-young face replace that solemn expression she wears when she starts going on like this.

“I never said _I_ can fix it. This is a group project,” she reminds, even as she hands him another component for him to attempt to clean of years’ worth of mystery space grime.

“Is it?” he comments, grinning to himself. “Because _someone_ isn’t pulling their weight.”

“I heard that,” comments Minn’Erva, still from some distance away.

“I believe you were meant to. He could hear your footsteps.”

The only answer the Kree offers is a yawn, as she makes her way by them and their mountain of disassembled starship components. Unwilling to have any part of this, not before she had her... whatever it is she’s been drinking in the mornings. Some liquid that came in a slightly disturbing colour and yet it was very obviously... well... _space coffee_.

“Any chance our metabolisms can survive that thing?” he brings up casually. “Because if this is our life now I’m gonna need to look into some kind of stimulant to help me cope.”

“I believe this planet offers many kinds of stimulation,” utters Bibi. Eyes on the twisted piece of metal in her hand, yet giving even impression she is not going to be able to keep a straight face for much longer.

“ _Young lady_ ,” he snaps at her in his best mock-parental tone. And of course that’s all it takes for her to erupt in giggles. “You need to start acting your age...” he sighs.

“And when do you think you might start acting yours?” she shoots right back at him.

Minn’Erva joins them without a word, putting her steaming mug of whatever-it-is on the ground by her knee and picking up one of the many, many machine parts Bibi decided they might still be able to salvage. Clearly fully onboard with the idea of this being a group project. “Tell me this isn’t all we have planned for today,” she says after a moment, shattering that illusion. “I know it’s necessary, but if all we’re doing is staying inside working on the ship someone’s going to lose it.”

“Is this you giving us an early warning?” he frowns. “Do you feel cabin fever coming on? Should we confiscate your weapons...?”

The Kree just snorts and picks up her mug to take another sip from the mystery liquid. He watches her. Uttering a heartfelt. “I’m just gonna say it. I _miss_ coffee. Why the hell didn’t we pack an emergency supply to take with us?”

“Because we had other things to worry about? Breaking into a secure SWORD facility and all that...” replies B.

“Excuses.”

“Behave and I’ll try to find you some sort of non-terrestrial equivalent when I go shopping later,” she promises half-heartedly.

“Why is that your job again? It’s just... you’re hardly an adult. On the outside,” adds Minn’Erva quickly, seeing the unamused look those words get.

“And yet there I am, doing all the food shopping for us. Being quite the dutiful daughter. You have any idea how many discounts that gets us?” she winks. “Though I _would_ be getting a whole lot more sympathy if either of you had jobs. Just saying.”

“No,” he sighs. “You’re never _just saying_.”

She says nothing but her smirk speaks volumes. And the truth is having someplace to be for a few hours every day isn’t _such_ a terrible idea. Partly because their current living conditions are so depressing, partly because it's not ideal for him to be spending too much time in closed quarters with Minn’Erva, now that the sight of her doesn’t elicit pity as much as...

But that's something for him to figure out. And then never to speak of, let alone act on. _Obviously_. But even if that stayed within the territory of his internal thoughts there were still going to be times when he caught himself looking at her, unable to figure out how the hell did such a startlingly beautiful creature ended up a part of his life. Even as a friend, her presence was just... pushing plausibility.

“Tell me you really figured out a way to get me a job even though I have no useful space skills,” he says, turning to B. Who, given the part-amused, part-approving expression on her face, knew exactly which way his thoughts were headed just now.

“I can. _If_ you're willing to lie about what planet you’re from,” says the little witch, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Is it because even this far out everyone knows terrans are mostly useless?” he guesses.

“In part,” she nods. “It’s also, well... _you_. Not that your actual backstory isn’t exciting enough. But it wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense to people that never even heard of Earth. Meanwhile _everyone_ has heard of Asgard. So if you were to heavily imply you got those,” she says with a casual gesture encompassing his scarred face and missing ear, “in some ancient battle in service of the Allfather...”

“And that would work?” he chuckles.

“Is it possible for anyone to confirm?” she says in a way of an answer. “And even if people suspect a lie, they’ll buy it if it adds to a story they like.”

“Fair enough.” 

But that’s not the end of _that_ conversation, strangely enough. Because just as they settle into the usual companionable silence Minn’Erva adds a somewhat amused, “You do know you’ll have to dress the part, right?”

He did _not_ know that. And Bibi’s shrug is anything but assuring. “That won’t be a problem. I saw some pieces of armour in one of the shops the other day. Truth is we should all go. We _will_ need some warmer clothes. Since we’re living on an ice planet and everything.”

“And by _everything_ you of course mean the way our climate control keeps malfunctioning,” comments the Kree. “Even though _someone_ promised she’ll get it fixed. And _what_ is that grin?” she finishes, realizing her words were having some very strange effect on the witch.

“I suppose I’ll just have to buy you something really pretty to get you to stop being mad at me.”

“You can’t _bribe me_ , terran,” Minn'Erva replies, unamused. Hiding it well at any case.

“We’ll see about that.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Don’t.”

“Oh don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me,” replies Rumlow. Adding a quick, “And it _is_ a good look on you,” without quite meeting her eyes.

“Which is only secondary to the fact that it might keep me from freezing to death the next time the heat in my room goes out,” she says, striving for a matter-of-fact tone. Though she is smiling. Because it _is_ a very nice fur coat, the ivory colour of it offsetting her skin in a particularly pleasing way. “What?” she adds, seeing the look on his face.

“Don’t mind me. Just... desperately trying not to say anything along the lines of how you’re welcome to share my bodyheat again if things ever get that dire again.”

She just shakes her head at him. Amused, of course but... wondering if there might be a serious offer in there somewhere. Her mind going back to that first frosty night aboard their new ship. How easy it was to fall asleep. How untroubled by dreams that sleep was.

But before she can say anything, before she is done figuring out what is there to even say, the third member of their crew catches up with them. “Well look who’s looking ready to cancel Christmas for the next hundred years,” smirks the girl.

“What did we say about hitting her with cultural references she can’t understand,” Rumlow says in a mock-stern tone.

“Oh, fine. But she does look good and you know it. And _you_ know it,” she adds, speaking to Minn. Looking just a touch smug about how well she succeeded in bribing her. “And as for you, you’re getting a pass today. But I do need you to start wearing that armour, though.”

“Do we need the money _that_ desperately?” he groans.

“Just be glad I’m not trying to monetize you in some other way.”

The laughter that follows is perhaps a little too amused. Takes him a good while to get under control. “I’ll take it, since it’s coming from you. And it _would_ take magic to convince anyone they want a piece of _this_.”

Probably a very bad idea to get into that subject and so she bites her lip to keep the words in. And that works. For a while...

“So I don’t mean anything by this. I _don’t_. I know we’re not _that_ desperate for money and even if we were...”

“Oh, I can’t wait for what the punchline of _this_ is,” chuckles the witch.

“Never mind,” she sighs. “It’s not like we’d ever...”

“Try to pimp me out?” guesses Rumlow, just about managing to keep his expression angry – even though he’s clearly fighting down another laugh.

“We wouldn’t. Obviously. Even though _someone_ clearly thinks you’d sell.”

She shrugs. That is, after all, exactly what she was trying to say. “They’re just scars. Not everyone minds that.”

“I’ve never felt more objectified in my life,” utters the terran. Making a show of seeming terribly disappointed in them both for ever even contemplating such a thing.

And yet, it’s not just amusement that’s hiding behind his hard-to-read features. He might be trying not to show it but clearly he’s wondering.

She can only hope she didn’t say something that would bring an end to this... this domestic harmony they somehow ended up with, against all odds. But still she wouldn’t take the words back. They _were_ just scars. It wouldn’t be his face without them. And they were not as terrible as all that.

The truth it was probably high time she admitted to herself was that, well, she liked what she saw.

...

Oh but it was a lot worse than that. Ever since he got the job in one of the more peculiar establishments on Contraxia – a job that required him to do nothing more than stand around, impersonating some unspecified tragic figure from way back in the Asgard’s golden age – she had to content with far too many hours without his company. And she minded. She minded that _a lot_.

“We both know you know what I’m thinking,” she sighs on a long, dark afternoon, realizing she’s been checking the time far more often than it was healthy. “Let’s not pretend you have nothing to say to me.”

“I don’t,” says the terran girl. “I would never try to give advice on a situation I have no experience with.”

“But you’re so old and wise. Giving advice is your whole thing,” she lets out a breath. “Just drop the pretences, call me _child_ and say something... helpful.”

“Wish that I could, child,” says the witch, genuine regret in her dark eyes. “You don’t need advice. You need to know you have control over your life again. That it’s yours and only yours to do with as you will. Do you believe that’s true?”

“I... do,” she admits.

“Then you left their prison behind in every way that matters. That’s a good thing. A very good thing.” There is a long silent second as she chooses her next words. “But is that the only good thing you want out of life? Because I believe you deserve far more.”

“You know... I really wish I had a grandmother like you when I was little.”

That makes the girl laugh. It makes _her_ laugh. It transforms the solemn silence they had between them for hours now as they walked on the engine into something far warmer. “I used to wish for that. Family. Children. Things I felt were unrightfully taken from me,” sighs the girl. Yet she doesn’t sound particularly sad, only thoughtful. “We don’t always get what we want. It’s all about the things we do have. Sometimes they are more than we ever imagined for ourselves. These days I wonder if the goddess had her reasons after all. If it wasn’t just cruelty of a cat playing with its catch. Maybe I wasn’t growing old all these years because I was meant to grow old among the stars.”

A beautiful thought. But then that’s what this child – this _woman_ – is. A beautiful soul hidden behind a mask of an unaging face.

Possibly the best friend Minn ever had...

“Now let’s try this again. And if it doesn’t work this time I’m giving up on technology and just drawing runes and glyphs all over this useless chunk of metal.”

“Would that... work?”

A good question, or so the witch says.

A question they don’t have a _definite_ answer to by the time the third member of their crew walks in from the icy streets outside. But they do have an engine room with wall covered with arcane symbols and in a way that’s almost as good. 


	11. Chapter 11

“Did you get turned around? You cabin is that way.”

“I’m aware. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“You... are?” he frowns. “Is something wrong with climate control again...?”

She shakes her head in a manner that implies she has her own reasons for wishing to spend the night. Which is... not the kind of news he knows how to begin dealing with, not this out of nowhere. “Feels like I’m missing something. What am I missing?” he wonders even as she precedes him into the not-particularly-spacious room tucked away in one of the twisted corridors of their ship.

“ _I’m_ missing something,” says the Kree, already seated on the bunk. Giving it a once-over, clearly wondering whether it’s wide enough to accommodate them both. “Feels like I barely see you anymore,” she adds. Casually. As though it’s something that doesn’t really need saying. That is... understood. 

“I do have a day off tomorrow,” he points out. Wondering if that might make any difference at all. Since she seems so intent on doing this.

“Do I actually have to remind you how sad my story is and how it means I get to have whatever I ask for because you feel really sorry for me?” she says, right on queue. “Because I'd rather skip that part. Get in bed already, will you?”

“But... why?”

“Because what those Hydra scientists did to me was terrible and unforgivable and somehow there is still something worse they can do to me even now. They can be a reason why I never let anyone near me again. That would be as bad as all the scars they left,” she says. And her words are level enough but there is still a kind of distant sadness in her voice. “It would be a victory for the monsters. I’m not letting them have that. I want _everything_ my life can be... And I know that sounds like I’m propositioning you. I’m not. Just want to sleep here tonight. To know what it will feel like to wake up next to you.”

 _What it will feel like to wake up next to you_. One of the worst things she could have said. Because it was a thing _he_ wondered – and knew he was never going to stop wondering about because out of all the women in the galaxy none was more off limits than this one.

Yet here she was. Looking like she was on the brink of saying it again.

Rumlow doesn’t give her a reason to. Just gets in bed as ordered. Wraps himself around the warm form of her, certain he won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

For all that the day he had left him tired he can’t lose this to the need to close his eyes. “Are you watching me?” she mumbles just when he starts to think she has drifted off, what with how even her breathing is.

“Maybe,” he admits.

“Mind not doing that?”

“I would mind that, yes.”

And her eyes are opened again. A sleepy smile on her face as she shifts her position so she can look at him. “Two can play that game,” she comments. “And now no one is getting any sleep.”

He stifles his laughter against her neck and endures several comments about how he’s being a terran and making this weird and needs to stop that because she had a long day too and needs her rest.

Eventually, though he would really prefer not to, he does drift off to sleep.

...

“Hey B? Can we talk?”

“About Minn’Erva?”

He only nods before adding an uncertain. “What’s the water like?”

“I won’t give you the answer you want to hear,” says the witch, never looking up from the complex machinery she’s fighting into submission. “Especially since what you want to hear is a reason to pretend you’re not getting your heart’s desire.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to use the phrase _your heart’s desire_. Not unless you’re a good witch in a fairytale,” he says as he collapses on the ground beside her.

“What makes you think I’m not,” she grins.

“Can we not? Can’t you just... do your thing? Go all stern old lady and tell me what I’m supposed to do here.”

“What you’re supposed to do here is make a decision yourself, like a grownup. Not rely on me to make one for you,” she says, her words as serious as her eyes were ancient.

“She stopped talking about going home. The day we got her out of that place that was all she wanted,” he says slowly, voicing the troubling thought he woke up with this morning. “We can’t be the reason she gives up home.”

“She talked about Hala because that was the only definition of the word _home_ she had then. It isn’t anymore. It’s been too many years – all the people she once knew are either dead or long since moved on with their lives. She’s better off with the home she has right now than with some dream pieced together from things that no longer exist. That’s what she’s come to accept and it's _a good thing_ ,” says the witch emphatically. “ _That’s_ what the waters tell me.”

But not all they were telling her.

Rumlow knew if he asked the right question she would give him an answer that would make him forget what _he_ wanted. Make him remember that fragile creature of not too long ago, scarred in every sense of the word.

“Ah yes. _Her_ ,” B says, forcing him to meet her eyes. “But she’s gone already. I don’t think she’s ever coming back. Who you need to keep in mind is the person you saw this morning. What was _she_ like? And please feel free to use the word _happy_.”

“The amount of people I was ever able to make happy can be counted on fingers of one hand. It’s not something I’m good at,” he says, willing her to believe him. Willing her to simply accept what he was telling her here. But of course the ancient girl is already shaking her head...

“That’s the person you were. Haven’t we long ago agreed that who the goddess brought back was someone different?”

“Different doesn’t mean better.”

“No,” she admits. “It doesn’t. But if you let your doubts get in the way you’re not costing Brock Rumlow his potential for happiness. You’re taking things from someone else too. Someone who’s been through enough and deserves everything good in this life.”

“Why are you saying all the wrong things?” he wonders, staring at his oldest friend with confused incomprehension.

“Why would you assume I’d encourage you to be a coward?” she says in reply.

Answering a question with a question. How mature...

“I was so sure you’ll hate this.”

“There is no _this_ to hate. Not yet. And the reason you assume disapproval is because I’m an older authority figure and you sadly still have some strange associations with those.”

He has very little to say to that because, as is often the case, she is absolutely right.

An infuriating quality in a person.

All the more infuriating because lately it seems like she might just be right about their rust bucket of a ship ever making it off Contaxia. And to wherever they’re going next. All three of them – that went from being a possibility to a certainty now. There was no splitting this crew. This... next best thing to a family, really, if he was honest with himself.

Maybe that was why he was looking around for reasons to see this – the woman of his dreams making it very clear she wanted something from him, something more than what they had already – as a bad thing.

“There _is_ one more thing. I know, I know, you’re not happy with my advice today,” chuckles the witch on seeing his expression. “Well, this is more of an observation. Something I feel in the water. I think that current runs deep enough for you not to consciously realize...”

“Skip the metaphor. Just tell me.”

Bibi nods, taking a moment to choose just the right words to express what it is she’s sensing from him. “If the woman that wanted to be close to you wasn’t this perfect Kree beauty, if she was still wearing all the scars she had when we found her – would that make any difference at all?”

“Of course not.”

“ _Of course not_ ,” she repeats, just to make sure he’s aware of the certainty with which he said it. “And then he comes here and expects me to go all disapproving matriarch. Now,” she says, and it’s the kind of _now_ that lets him know this conversation is nearly over, “hand me that wrench. And then get out of my engine room. We both know you have better things to do with your day off than listen to an old lady.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Or just move your stuff in here,” he suggests. The words giving her a pause, possibly because there is no subtext to them. None at all. He means it exactly as he says it.

“I... assumed you like having your own space.”

“Yes. And I like having you in it. Did I not say that?” he says, seeming genuinely disappointed iin himself over it. “I really need to start saying these things.”

“Or you can just... keep assuming I _know_ ,” she shrugs. “I usually do. And Brock? I like having you in my space too.”

“And we’re absolutely sure you’re not just saying it because our climate control is still completely unreliable,” he says, just a touch amused. Making her grin. Making her come to him where he sits on the edge of the bunk they now share every night. An act of intimacy that seems too natural ever to think about anymore.

Because this is the person she feels safe with. A galaxy full of men and it’s this one she wants to fall asleep with every night. This one that makes her believe she’s safe.

“You have a look,” he says, commenting on whatever it is he sees in her expression.

“I do?”

“You do. And I don’t even want to guess what all that’s about.” He waves his hand in front of her face, making her chuckle. Lose whatever _look_ it was he found so troubling. “I'll just go ahead an say it. Whatever it is, I’m _not_ going to put up a fight. I’ll even try not to ask if you’re sure too often.”

“Oh good,” she says, sitting down into his lap before he can utter another word. “Because that _would_ get annoying.”

“But you _are_ sure, though, right...?” he says, leaning in closer as though to tell her a secret. She rolls her eyes, then meets his lips with hers. Something she only did a few times so far. Always just a little hesitant, just a little too aware of just how many years it’s been since she knew how to do this without having to think about it.

And it doesn’t help that he’s exactly as hesitant to respond, always keeping in mind the person she was when he met her, the place he met her in, his own history with the people who created that hell...

As ever there is just too much in the space between them for a kiss to be enough to make them forget it all. And yet, it is a little better this time. There’s just a little more... urgency, to the way they touch. Some boundary is crossed, somehow, and she feels his fingers in her hair and her heartbeat grows wilder in response. And they’re not coming apart, not yet, and that means everything. That means she’s not too broken. That she can have this again, this long forgotten sensation, this... closeness.

“Hey, does this look like a... Oh. You're busy.”

“And you usually know that without having to barge into the room,” Minn says, turning to the girl standing at the door, grinning uncertainly. Partially at what she just walked in on, yes, but... there was something else in her expression too. Something _excited_.

“Seriously, B,” sighs Rumlow. “Normally you sense disturbances in the force all the way from the other side of the ship. Are your witch powers malfunctioning?”

“My _witch powers_ are working just fine. But I think... I _think_ Bast’s hold on me is weakening with all this distance. I...” she let’s out s breath, her eyes nearly glowing with delight as she says the rest. “I just found a grey hair. I think I’m starting to _age_.”

“Do you really?” she frowns, getting up to get closer to the girl. Take a better look. “I’m not seeing it.”

“There is no great change yet,” shrugs the terran. “But in a year I will look a year older than I do today. I can feel it.”

“In the water?” guesses Rumlow.

She nods vigorously at this, wild curls dancing with the motion. “Life is _good_ , isn’t it?” she giggles, turns on the heel and runs off leaving them to their privacy.

Happy for her friend Minn still can’t help but feel grateful for that. “Life _is_ pretty good,” she agrees, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

...

“I think I’ll actually miss this place. Sex robots and all... What? At least I didn’t call it an orgy planet this time,” he points out.

“If the next place doesn’t work out we can always come back,” she says, ignoring _that_.

“Is that... an option?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we come back to a place we made this many memories on? All those times this thing broke down and we nearly froze to death... All those fancy Asgardian armours you had to wear for a living...” she adds with a chuckle.

“All those comments about whether you’re with me out of Stockholm Syndrome...”

“No one ever said that,” utters Bibi, for the first time showing a sign she’s paying any attention at all to the two of them. “No one outside you-know-where uses that phrase.”

“Right. And we don’t talk about you-know-where. So it can't be Stockholm Syndrome. But it definitely is a case of very low standards.”

“Do you want to sleep alone tonight?” she says, mock-seriously, nudging him in the ribs. Then, doing a double take, she adds, “You know that’s about me rather than about you, right? Everyone knows my people tend to be... shallow. They have this whole thing about appearances,” she shakes her head.

“What’s the smile about?” he wonders, taking in her expression.

“Just... wondering if I’m all that Kree anymore. Don’t think I am.”

Clearly not certain about what to say to that he just wraps his arm around her, hugging her to his side. Not hesitating as he would once. Feeling at ease with her now, truly at ease, rather than forever overthinking every little gesture in case it might be too much.

“Just to remind you two, what I _actually_ said is we _might_ be ready for a test flight by the end of the week. I still have a lot of work to do. I’m making triply sure this thing won’t come apart on us while we’re up there, light-years from help,” comments the witch. Though she does let herself smile as they groan in unison. “But do feel free to take it as an excuse to celebrate.”

“We will...”

“We... will?” asks Rumlow as she tugs on his arm to get him moving. His expression very _are you saying what I think you’re saying_.

She doesn't reply. Not planning on wasting time on phrasing it any clearer.

But she _was_ going to do it. Because yes, she _was_ sure. More than she was about anyone who have come before.

She wanted to reclaim this part of her life and she wanted him to be the person to help her reclaim it and there was not a trace of uncertainty in her as she led him back to their room. As she started helping him out of his clothes. Slowly, not out of hesitation but because she wanted to savour this. This memory they needed to make before they left this frozen world behind...

“You do know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, right?” he tells her in a voice raw with passion as she traces his scars. Enjoys the way they feel under her fingers, these imperfections without which he wouldn't be the person that meant the world to her.

“No,” she whispers, pressing a kiss into the mottled skin of his neck. “I’m _about to be_ the best thing that ever happened to you...”


	13. Epilogue

There was fire.

But on an icy world fire is the only hope life has of persevering. Fire is a necessity. It’s survival. It’s...

An imperfect metaphor - like when a witch speaks of a person as though they were a sea whose waters she could thread. Fire is one way to describe the way they came alive in the long, icy nights, finding in one another all the things life tried to take from them. All the things they almost lost in real fires, in the heat and pain that brought them to an edge of destruction.

But only to the edge.

They rose from the ashes different people than they were before. And with every passing day there were rewriting themselves further. Becoming something they were never meant to be. Not them. Not a Kree soldier and a terran terrorist.

But here they are, all the same. The story _they_ decided to be. Defying the universe. Being each other’s fire on this icy world, just as they will be on every world that came after.


End file.
